


The Garden

by Kate669



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Child Loss, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14563665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate669/pseuds/Kate669
Summary: Poppy has some important news for Branch, but he's nowhere to be found. Is he hiding something?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please stop reading now if you're sensitive to the subject of child loss.

Twilight was settling over the village as Poppy made her way to Branch's bunker. Her day had been extremely hectic, and she couldn't help feeling relieved that a cancellation by Nova Swift had left her with the time for a visit to the clinic. She had news for him – news of a sensitive nature, with the potential to change everything for both of them.

As mates, they divided their time between Poppy's pod and the bunker. Neither could bear to give up the living habits they had grown accustomed to, and their schedules sometimes left them with little time for “couple” activities, but each kept the essentials for the other in their respective homes, so that they could come and go as they pleased. Placing one hand on the lever of the elevator, Poppy stepped forward and tried not to pay too much attention to how the motion made her stomach drop. The ride was smooth enough (of course, Branch kept his equipment in excellent condition), but she was glad to finally reach the bottom.

“Branch?” she called out, looking around the large room. “Are you here?” Her ears strained, listening for a response, but caught none. With a heavy sigh, Poppy stepped off the elevator and glanced around. After a few moments, her eyes fell on the wooden tree stump desk where they had sat many times to scrapbook together. Taped to the lamp was a coarse sheet of paper with a roughly scrawled note. Poppy reached for it, confused. It wasn't unusual for Branch to continue his foraging well into the night, but he never left notes. Something must be wrong…

_Poppy,_

_I'm sorry I won't make it back tonight. There's some casserole and blueberry pie for you in the icebox. I'll see you the day after tomorrow. I love you._

_Branch_

Her hands fell to her lap, crumpling the note as they did so. Of all the times for her mate to go on some day-long journey, he had to pick _now?_ She walked huffily over to the kitchen, yanking the icebox door harshly to reach for the blueberry pie inside. Slamming it shut, she decided not to bother with utensils, and simply scooped a fingerful of crust and compote into her mouth. Munching slowly, she trudged to Branch's favorite armchair and slumped into it, wondering if there was anyone else with whom she could share her predicament. Smidge? No…she already spent too much time depending on her. Besides, the Stoutberries were close to ripening, and Smidge would need as much rest as she could get before the harvest. Guy Diamond? Same problem. Bridget? Too far away. Cooper? Any chat with him would end up skewing off on some bizarre tangent. DJ? DJ-ing. Biggie? He was on a date with Zia. He had graciously offered to let her babysit Mr. Dinkles, but she had (truthfully) told him she wasn't feeling well.

“Just great!” she muttered, taking another mouthful of pie. She felt completely out of sorts. It wasn't the same as going grey, but her will to sing and dance was gone. She was tired, and not just because of her demanding schedule as Queen of the village. Branch shouldered some of the responsibility where he could, but his duties were more behind-the-scenes, concerning things like village safety and supply rationing. He had fallen willingly into the role of Poppy's consort – there were still any number of dangers to protect the village from, and he tackled each new challenge with delight. It brought Poppy much joy to know she had finally been able to give him a sense of purpose in the village, and while he still shied away from most social activities, he was gradually coming around. Such a brilliant mind, a sharp sense of humor - and the sweetest sky-blue eyes in the world, only for her.

Or _were_ they? Poppy chanced another look at the note, wondering why Branch hadn't mentioned anything to her sooner. Were there more secrets to uncover? If so, she had to get them out in the open as soon as possible. Given her situation, she couldn't wait. Setting her plate carefully down on the shelf next to the armchair, she curled up and closed her eyes, grateful at least for a quiet place to rest.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The whirring of the elevator roused Poppy from her slumber; she blinked slowly as she tried to regain her bearings. The familiar earthy smell of the bunker was punctuated with the sweet and slightly pungent scent of blueberries. Her eyes suddenly flew wide open, remembering the stress of the previous day, the note, and the unexplained absence of her mate, who was now visible on the elevator platform as it lowered. How long had she been asleep? Was he back early? More importantly, what was he back early _from?_

"Poppy!" Branch exclaimed in relief, hopping off the platform. "I almost couldn’t get to the bunker; everyone's been asking me where you were! They've all been worried sick - did you sleep the whole day away?" Rushing forward, he reached out to place a hand on Poppy’s. She withdrew it, and his expression changed to one of surprise. This wasn't like her – she usually ran to _him_. "Poppy, what’s wrong? Your friends have been looking for you all day!"

Poppy glared at him, holding up the crumpled note. "I thought you weren’t due back for a day," she said, her voice carrying a hint of venom.

Recognizing the tone of a woman scorned, Branch instinctively took a step back. " It’s _been_ a day," he said gently. "I was going to come and see you first thing in the morning. You must have been pretty exhausted - the whole village has been wondering where you disappeared to. I figured you’d want to head back to your own pod..."

"Oh, you did, huh? Well, you thought wrong!" Poppy snapped. "Where were you, Branch? I had something extremely important to discuss with you, and you pick that exact time to go on some journey? What could be more important than supporting your mate when she needs you? Oh, but you wouldn’t know she needs your support, would you, because you _weren’t even here!"_

"Where I was is no concern of yours!" Branch shot back. "I know we haven't had much time together lately, but I've been busy too! You’ve got hundreds of friends - could one of them not have helped you out with whatever you needed so I could have one damn day to myself?”

  
“You can't keep it hidden forever!” Poppy’s voice was close to shrieking now. "Branch, _why_ are you being so evasive? This is your CHILD we're talking about!!!"

A cold silence fell around them as she took in the horrified look now washing over his face. His eyes were wide with shock, as if her words had struck his very core. Wavering lightly on his feet, he took a few shaky breaths, hands clenching and unclenching a few times before whirling around to the elevator, shoving the lever into the "up" position, praying that Poppy hadn’t caught the tears about to break through.


	2. Chapter 2

Once he was free of the bunker, Branch ran blindly through the grass a short distance, his face still contorted as if in deep pain. _How did she find out?_ he wondered, dropping to his knees in front of a cluster of tiny white flowers. He had had every intention of explaining his absence to Poppy upon his return, but had secretly hoped she’d be distracted enough not to ask until then. Now, it seemed, she already knew. He’d expected some hurt feelings, but not a full-on verbal assault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, cupping a hand gently around the white flowers. "You deserved better than this…better than me..."

"Branch?"

His ears pricked up at the sound of the gentle voice speaking his name. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed the rustling sounds growing ever closer behind him. Sensing no threat, he turned to face the large creature. "Bridget? What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was gonna come and surprise Poppy with a visit, because I knew she had a lot going on this week," Bridget replied, "but no one in the village has seen her for a whole day. Smidge told me she might be with you..."

Branch shook his head. "She’s down there," he sighed, gesturing toward the bunker hatch. "I’m sure she’ll come out eventually, but you might want to make sure I’m not around when she does. She’s on the warpath..."

"What happened?" Bridget lowered her hand to the ground, inviting Branch to sit in it. He hesitated only a moment before accepting her offer, allowing her to gently pick him up. He was still wary around the Bergens out of habit, but he knew he could trust Bridget. With another heavy sigh, he reached into his hair and pulled out something small and wooden.

Bridget squinted carefully, trying to identify the tiny object. “That's pretty,” she said, not wanting to hurt his feelings any further. “Is it something you made?”

He nodded, turning the item over gently in his hands as if it were his greatest treasure. “It's a rattle,” he said softly. “I wasn't as skilled when I made this as I am now…frankly, I'm surprised it's held together this long…”

“A rattle? You mean like for a baby?” Bridget tilted her head. “You and Poppy?”

Branch shook his head. “This was years ago…Poppy was still a teenager. I'm not sure if you're aware, Bridget, but I'm about four years older than her. And being grey didn't stop me from feeling certain urges, if you know what I mean...”

“Oh.” Bridget nodded, suddenly getting the picture. “So you were gonna have a baby with another Troll? Are they still in the village?”

“The mother is,” Branch said flatly. “It's not like we were trying to make it happen…it just sort of did. She was decent enough to keep our fling low-key, so the rest of the village wouldn't hound us with questions.”

“And the baby?”

Branch didn't respond. He just looked up at the sky, then down at the wooden toy in his hand. “They would have been five this year,” he finally managed to say, with a slight crack in his voice. “We never even knew if it was going to be a boy or a girl...they didn't make it far enough before…before…”

Seeing Branch about to break down was too much for Bridget. Losing his grandmother must have been painful enough, but his unborn child? Her eyes brimming with tears, she hugged the Troll close to her chest. “Branch, I'm so sorry!” she sobbed, nuzzling her cheek against him and barely turning her head in time to avoid splashing a huge teardrop on his head. “Have you told Poppy?”

“I was about to,” he replied, his voice still trembling. “I heard there was a grove of cherry trees on the other side of the forest, and decided to go and look for a piece of wood to make a new rattle. I even brought back a few extra so I could make some for the children in the village. Celia does something similar, weaving blankets for the new Trollings. You'd never guess she'd lost her own…she can party just as hard as any other Troll, but she and I always make a point to meet here on the anniversary of the loss, so we can pay our respects.”

The sound of the bunker hatch opening caused the two friends to turn their heads. There, with both hands clasped gently over her heart, stood Poppy, her eyes shining with tears. Her heart ached for Branch, and for dear Celia – the blanket lady, whom she had actually helped on numerous occasions to deliver those very same blankets! She had never known the reason behind it – Celia herself had only mentioned that every Trolling was special, and the blankets were her gift to them.

Bridget lowered her hand again, letting Branch run to Poppy. She held her arms open wide, and he fell into them, his chest heaving as he finally released the tears, wails and sobs he'd been holding in all this time, the rattle still held tightly in his hand. They cried together for a good long while, Poppy running her fingers soothingly through Branch's hair, while he buried his face in her shoulder, grateful for the solace it provided. Bridget, who still had tears running down her cheeks, rose from her spot and tiptoed back to the village. She would meet up with Poppy later, but for now, these two needed their space.

Branch raised his head at last, searching his mate's eyes desperately for forgiveness. “Poppy, I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going…I really should have. And I'm sorry you've had such a rough week. You work so hard to provide for our people, and you deserve nothing less than the best.”

“No, Branch,” replied Poppy, _“I'm_ the one who should be apologizing. I understand why you kept this to yourself. Even after all you've lost, you still find ways to give. Your grandma would be proud.” She lifted his hand, rubbing it gently to encourage him to loosen his grip on the rattle. “You're an amazing father,” she whispered, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Did I hear you say you brought home extra wood?”

He nodded slowly, arching an eyebrow.

“Well…” she smiled gently at him, “after you've finished your memorial piece, do you think you could make one for their brother or sister?”

It took a few moments for her words to sink in, but when they did, Branch’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Poppy's smile grew, taking his free hand and placing it on her belly. His eyes immediately misted over again, almost as if he were afraid of the touch, marveling at the miracle of the second chance he'd been blessed with. He would always love and remember his first, and Poppy's unconditional acceptance of them warmed his heart.

Only one question now lingered in the back of his mind. How would Celia react to the news?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wasn't planning on making this a three-chapter story, but you'll get to meet Celia in the third (and most likely final) installment. This is a subject that means a lot to me, as I have several angel moms near and dear to my heart. I hope I'm doing right by them.


End file.
